Chapter 55: Love Letter Part 2

A sunny day.

Hugging the quilt, Jiang Ruoning turned to gaze for a long time. Memories of living here resurfaced bit by bit. On sunny days, they went out; on rainy ones, they lazed at home watching TV, playing games, eating takeout. While she did schoolwork, Shi Sui would sprawl on the table watching her. Sometimes she’d get embarrassed and push her. “Don’t stare at me.”

Shi Sui had been shameless back then. “What’s wrong with watching my wife?”

She always tossed those words around. Thinking back now still embarrassed Jiang Ruoning.

Wife?

She murmured the word in her heart a thousand ways.

Shi Sui hadn’t woken yet. As Jiang Ruoning got out of bed quietly, she was still asleep. Jiang Ruoning checked her temperature carefully—no fever last night or now. She was probably getting better, just still coughing a bit. Jiang Ruoning tiptoed to wash up, then simmered porridge and pear water in the kitchen, left a note for Shi Sui, grabbed her bag, and left.

She got home at eight-thirty. Jiang Qin was eating breakfast. Hearing the door, she turned and saw Jiang Ruoning come in wearing yesterday’s clothes, bag in hand. She hurried over, concerned. “Tired, huh?”

Jiang Ruoning felt a twinge of guilt. “Not too bad.”

Jiang Qin ladled her a bowl of porridge and peeled an egg. Jiang Ruoning was glad she hadn’t eaten at Shi Sui’s, or she’d burst. Biting into the egg, she saw Jiang Qin cleaning. On her phone, a message from Little Aunt: [Ningning, are you coming back for New Year this year?]

Jiang Ruoning stared at the message, hesitating. “Mom.”

Jiang Qin turned, wringing the rag as she looked at her. “What?”

Jiang Ruoning’s words stuck in her throat. She shook her head. “The egg’s a bit dry.”

“You couldn’t even pour yourself a glass of water?” Jiang Qin scolded her verbally. “You can’t survive a single day without me.” Jiang Ruoning caught the delight beneath her mother’s reproach and smiled. Jiang Qin continued, “Eat something soon, take a shower, and get some sleep.”

Jiang Ruoning took a sip of warm water and said, “Got it.”

Sleep was out of the question, but Jiang Qin wouldn’t barge into her room either. After Jiang Ruoning finished her shower, Jiang Qin announced that she was heading downstairs for a stroll and to buy some groceries. Jiang Ruoning figured she had probably made plans with Zhang Zhilan. She’d heard that the two of them had signed up for square dancing in the complex downstairs. Zhang Zhilan had some dance experience and served as the lead dancer. Lately, they’d been learning a new routine, so she often dragged Jiang Qin along. When Zou Nian mentioned it, her voice had sounded relaxed: “Mom’s finally stopped obsessing over my marriage prospects.”

Jiang Qin seemed to have given up on the idea too—not just stopped obsessing, but abandoned it altogether. The last time they ran into Lin Mei in the elevator, even she hadn’t brought up matchmaking anymore. Jiang Ruoning lay on her bed, listening to the clamor from downstairs, unable to sleep. She tossed and turned, then suddenly noticed the book on her bedside table—the one she’d lent Zou Nian last time. She picked it up casually and flipped through a couple of pages. The book was old, its pages slightly yellowed, but the print remained crisp. She’d read it countless times back in school, to the point of memorizing it, yet every reread still drew her in.

When she reached the tenth page, she glanced at the page numbers ahead and spotted a gap in the middle, as if a page had been folded. Jiang Ruoning didn’t think much of it and turned to that page.

It wasn’t a folded page.

It was a piece of paper tucked inside.

A folded sheet of paper, pressed flat for years, now thin and fragile, with the writing above faded but still legible.

It was Shi Sui’s handwriting.

Jiang Ruoning leaned against the headboard and carefully made out every word. As she read it through, memories flooded back—this was the love letter Shi Sui had written her. Back then, she’d torn it open impatiently, recognized the handwriting at a glance, but too shy to read it right away, she’d claimed she’d look after class and snuck off to the bathroom to devour it. Whenever their eyes met back in class, she’d blushed furiously, pretending nothing was amiss and claiming she’d lost the letter.

Shi Sui had actually believed her. Even after they got together, Shi Sui had asked about the letter, only for Jiang Ruoning to brush it off.

So she’d hidden the love letter here all along.

Afraid Jiang Qin would find out, she hadn’t even kept the envelope—just the single sheet, tucked into this book. Jiang Ruoning unfolded the letter fully, snapped a photo of it, and opened her chat with Shi Sui. Her finger hovered over send, but she gritted her teeth and hit it.

Shi Sui was eating breakfast—millet porridge and that overly sweet pear water. She’d just taken a sip and winced when her phone buzzed. Jiang Ruoning’s avatar popped up with a photo. She tapped into WeChat, and as the image loaded, Shi Sui choked on her spoon with a muffled cough.

Jiang Ruoning poured fuel on the fire: 【Is this yours?】

Shi Sui: 【……】

Jiang Ruoning: 【Just found it while cleaning. If it’s not yours, I’m tossing it.】

Shi Sui: 【……Don’t.】

Jiang Ruoning: 【You used to be pretty sappy back then.】

Shi Sui: 【……】

Jiang Ruoning stared at the ellipses Shi Sui sent back, brimming with embarrassment and cuteness. She refolded the letter and slipped it back into the book. As she returned it to the shelf, her eyes fell on a row of old novels, and on a whim, she roughly flipped through them all.

Sure enough, there were more traces of her and Shi Sui lingering inside.

One novel featured a heroine who died of illness, and on the back, she’d scribbled: 【Wuwuwu… This made me cry so hard. Shi Sui, if we can’t be together in this life, you have to find me in the next.】

Jiang Ruoning read it while curling her toes in secondhand embarrassment, torn between wanting to look away and unable to stop, which drove her to flip to the next page.

Her phone buzzed occasionally, but she was too immersed in the mortifying memories of her girlish infatuation to muster the courage to face Shi Sui.

Shi Sui sent messages without reply, but she obediently finished her porridge and pear water anyway. She snapped a photo of the two empty bowls and sent it to Jiang Ruoning as a check-in. She had no idea what time Jiang Ruoning had left that morning. Waking to an empty room, she called out hopefully, “Ruoning?”

Only silence answered, as if the Jiang Ruoning from last night had been a dream.

But it wasn’t a dream.

Stepping out, she smelled the aroma of millet porridge and the cloying sweetness of pear water—flavors she didn’t even like—yet she’d polished them off. On the dining table sat a sticky note from Jiang Ruoning: 【Remember to eat.】

She peeled it off and stuck it on the fridge door, passing through the kitchen countless times that morning just for a glance.

Still no reply from Jiang Ruoning.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes.

Who knew what she was busy with.

Bored, Shi Sui fiddled with her phone and suddenly thought to check on Jiang Nuan. She’d drunk too much last night—might have a headache today. Shi Sui called directly, but no one picked up. She frowned and dialed again. Jiang Nuan’s voice came through, muffled: “Hello?”

Shi Sui asked, “Headache?”

Jiang Nuan, dazed, replied, “Huh?”

Her eyes were closed; her head did hurt. The alcohol’s aftereffects were brutal—her nerves on edge, throat sore too. Coming to, she said, “A bit.”

Shi Sui offered, “Want me to send over some porridge?”

Jiang Nuan said, “No need. I’ll cook some later when I get up.”

Shi Sui’s phone pinged with a notification. Thinking it was Jiang Ruoning, she told Jiang Nuan, “Alright then, hanging up.”

She ended the call and checked the screen—it was just a data alert. Shi Sui pressed her lips together, returned to her room to change, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs to her car. As she drove out of the complex, she spotted a pharmacy and pulled over without hesitation. She bought hangover meds and stomach pills, then grabbed some steamed buns and soy milk on the way. Jiang Nuan lived in a villa district arranged uniformly by the company. It took about half an hour from Shi Sui’s place. Morning rush hour, luckily no traffic—she arrived quickly.

Shi Sui had never been there before. She called Jiang Nuan for the house number, but no answer. Jiang Nuan had shoved her phone under the pillow after Shi Sui’s earlier call. She’d barely slept all night, finally dozing off around four or five a.m., so now she was exhausted, groggy, head pounding, throat aching—nothing felt right. But the insistent buzzing disturbed her rest. A hand from beside her swatted over: “Phone.”

The voice was hoarse with sleepiness. Jiang Nuan fumbled under the pillow and finally fished it out, but before she could answer, the call dropped. She shoved it back under, but her arm bumped the person next to her. Lin Wei cracked her eyes, glanced over, then froze. Her eyes widened, brows furrowing deeply. Seeing Jiang Nuan still asleep, she swung a slap!

The sharp crack jolted Jiang Nuan awake. Before she could react, another slap came flying!

Jiang Nuan grabbed Lin Wei’s wrist just in time and opened her eyes to meet hers.

“You…”

“You…”

They spoke at once. Lin Wei touched her throat—it felt like it was being torn apart. She glanced down at her clothes: pajamas.

Pajamas!

Lin Wei’s mind exploded. No time to recall last night, she shrieked. Jiang Nuan, fearing she’d hurt her throat, clamped a hand over her mouth, but Lin Wei shoved her away in fury. Freshly awake, Jiang Nuan lacked strength and slumped against the bedside table, her waist slamming into the edge. She grunted in pain, cold sweat beading on her forehead instantly. Lin Wei didn’t spare her a glance, jumped out of bed barefoot, and cursed nonstop: “Jiang Nuan, I’m going to kill you! You’re dead meat!”

Jiang Nuan rubbed her sore spot and watched Lin Wei whirl through her things like a storm.

Clothes—where were her clothes?!

No luck in the bedroom or living room. In the bathroom, she saw them in the washing machine, stained and alone. Memories crashed back: last night, drunk, she’d puked all over herself and Jiang Nuan, so they’d changed into pajamas.

So that meant…

Lin Wei glanced down at herself, her stern expression cracking with unease. Screw the clothes—she stormed out. Her own villa was next door; no way was she staying. Lin Wei strode to the door, snatched her high heels, and yanked it open with a bang.

Someone stood outside.

Shi Sui had called three times with no answer and was about to head to work when the door flew open.

Lin Wei wore baggy pajamas, hair a mess, bare-faced, heels dangling from one hand, right in front of Shi Sui.

Shi Sui couldn’t help glancing up at the house number, then back at Lin Wei, unflappable: “Morning.”

Lin Wei: “…”

Her hand gripping the heel’s edge turned white-knuckled. She stood ramrod straight, the other clutching the pajama folds, turning red as a shrimp plunged into boiling water.